


If you're lost and alone (or you're sinking like a stone)

by Milfygerard



Category: Danger Days: The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys - My Chemical Romance (Album), The True Lives of the Fabulous Killjoys (Comic)
Genre: Fluff, M/M, alcohol mention, discussion of intrusive thoughts, this fic has been haunting me since june i cant believe i actually finished it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 04:53:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,230
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25937707
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Milfygerard/pseuds/Milfygerard
Summary: Nights are hard for Cherri. Days are hard for the Kid. They meet somewhere in the middle.
Relationships: Agent Cherri Cola/Kobra Kid (Danger Days)
Comments: 14
Kudos: 27





	If you're lost and alone (or you're sinking like a stone)

Nights are the hardest for Cherri, he needs some way to cope

At least, that's what he’s telling himself, and damn it, hasn't he earned some denial

The cold air hits him as he steps out of the studio. He hates the cold. The chill of stale, air conditioned houses. The oppressive bone deep chill of basements. Cold metal touching his throat. Cold, lonely beds. _Nothing good ever happens on a night like this_ he thinks, pulling his jacket tighter around him as he rushes over to the small shack by the studio. He opens the door to the shed, almost taking it down in the process. Bitterly noting to himself to use more than duct tape next time for repairs, he makes his way in and immediately shoves some boxes to the side.

 _Finally,_ Show Pony’s homemade, shiniest in the zones, will-fuck-you-up-guaranteed moonshine. The perfect weapon against bad memories and creeping nightmares. Grabbing the elaborately painted jug, he turns to head back inside and drown his sorrows in a mix of distilled alcohol and (hopefully) edible glitter, when he notices movement in the dark in front of him.

Dropping the jug, Cherri feels his entire body tense. He places his hand on the holster, and curses quietly when he realizes his gun is sitting under his pillow. _Easy access my ass_ , he thinks, as he pulls out a pocket knife and flips it open. He hopes that whoever this motherfucker is,he’s new enough to the zones to not know how shitty Cherri is with a knife.

Finally, after what feels like hours but was most likely seconds, Cherri calls out-

“Hey, who the fuck are you? I’m armed.”

“Woah dude, it’s me”

Suddenly, Cherri felt all the tension leave his body. _Of fucking course_ , of any of the four to appear out of the shadows in the middle of the night, its the mysterious Kobra Kid. Well, mysterious is one word for it. Cherri usually sticks with _dickish_ or _weird_. He remembers back to Poison introducing them, and hyping Cherri up with the idea of his little brother who listens to Cherris poetry corner every night and wants nothing more in the world than to meet Cherri. He also remembers the life altering awkwardness when he actually met the stone faced Kobra. Every question was met with grunts or one word answers, his face never shifting from its bored, almost angry expression. Eventually, after an immeasurable amount of time, Kobra mumbled something about finding Poison and walked off without so much as a wave goodbye.

Cherri sighed, closing his switchblade with a _snap._ “What’re you doin’ out here, Kobes?”

Kobra shrugged “Just going for a midnight run when my gas ran out. Figured you had extra.”

Cherri squinted at him, trying to read Kobra’s face, but it was as blank as ever, eyes unreadable under the blackened sunglasses. _Its fucking 3 AM, why do you still have sunglasses on_? There wasn’t any reason Cherri could think of to turn him away, so with another, heavy sigh, Cherri scooped up the jug, and shot Kobra a smile he hoped came off as casual. “Well,” he said, “We might have some spare fuel floating around, you look exhausted though, why don’t you come in and have something to eat first.” A lie, Kobra looked exactly how Kobra always looked, composed and unaffected, but something in Cola was wondering about this guy. There’s something off about all of this, Kobra showing up out of the blue at the coldest point of the harsh desert night, three zones out with no backup fuel. He’s got a nasty feeling that the witch has a hand in this little coincidence and, good or bad, the witch’s plans are always interesting. So if the witch wants Cherri to spend this particularly shitty night drinking shitty sparkly moonshine with Poison’s weird, stuck up little brother, then he’ll just have to follow her lead and trust that something good’ll come out of it.

For a moment, Kobra doesn't move, outside of some awkward shifting. _Is he...nervous?,_ Cherri couldn’t help but stare as Kobra went from confident and cool to shifting his weight from foot to foot, staring at the ground. Then, as suddenly as it was there, it was gone. Kobra looks at Cherri, his mouth set in a line that Cherri thinks is meant to be a smile, and walked through the door. Cherri surveyed his surroundings one more time, double checking that no other surprises were popping out of the dark, before stepping in and closing the door behind him.

* * *

They were a split can of power pup and two shots down before Kobra spoke.

“Hey, um. Thank you for this. I didn’t plan on bein’ out so far and wasn’t really looking forward to an unprepared night under th’ stars”.

Cherri chuckled, pouring himself another shot of Show Ponys’ Sparkle Poison, slamming it back and coughed harshly from the kickback of alcohol and craft material.

“Dude, seriously, its no big,” Cherri couldn’t keep the amused tone out of his voice as the Kids stiff facade held up through his second shot “I am wondering, what were ya doin’ out in the desert at ass o clock in this fuckin weather?”

It had been gnawing at him, Kobra appearing out of the darkness _just_ as Cherri was stumbling back inside. Maybe-no. He can trust Kobra. This is Poison’s little brother, not some strange tumbleweed. Just ‘cause he’s not overly social doesn’t mean he’s some conspirator. 

Cherri realizes, after silently talking his drunk, paranoid self down, that Kobra hasn’t answered. Glancing up, he sees Kobra hunched over his cup. His head is bowed, blonde hair falling forward to shield his eyes. For a moment, silence rings out through the station. Nothing but the howling winds of the cold desert night rattling the shuttered windows and making the old wood creak. 

“Listen man, if y’don’t wanna talk about it, then-

“How do you-how do you deal with them”

Kobra looks up hesitantly, eyes visible through his hair

“Party mentioned...well i told them that ive been having...and they said i should talk to you, uh, that you’d, um, get it...the uh, the waking nightmare thing. They said you’d help. I don’t know how exactly but if Party says…”

Kobras voice is low, almost inaudible as he struggles through an explanation, stuttering and pausing as if this is the most he’s ever said at one time and isn’t quite sure what he’s doing. Any sense of cool that he’s been able to maintain before this is gone, as he fiddles with the bracelets on his wrist, turning away again from, his eyes (a shocking green, like his brothers, but less...playful, maybe? More guarded. scared.) 

It takes a moment for Cherri to understand, but then it hits him. The waking nightmare, the deserts curse. The experience of evil being streamed directly into your brain by whatever force out there wants you to hurt. A 24/7 loop of the worst of the worst. Death, murder, burning alive, giving into blind, destroying your crew, killing a pet, killing a friend, killing yourself, all the cruelty of the desert wrapped up in a little bow and delivered to you personally by the Phoenix fuckin Witch. 

Yeah, Cherri knows what that’s like.

Without thinking, Cherri gets up and moves to the other side of the booth. Instinctively, Kobra flinches, before moving over so no part of them was touching. Cherri could feel the warmth radiating off of him. He could also see how red he’s gone, as if Kobra was embarrassed to be so close to Cherri, as if someone was about to burst in and accuse them of something.

“Ok so....i guess th’ most important thing to know is, uh, it's not you, or it’s not your brain i guess. There’s some force in the desert. It afflicts some more than others, but it isn’t you that thinks it. You aren’t the bad guy, y’know?” 

“But what if i am?”

Cherri can feel Kobras leg bouncing, shaking the table. He seemed to have given up on the bracelets to calm him down, hands flat on the table, as if bracing him for impact. His eyes were squeezed shut, every part of him seeming tensed up, as it poured out of him.

“I mean, you don't see the things I see man. It’s constant. It’s like a memory playing over and over and over of the most goddamned disgusting things imaginable. And it’s me doing it. Poison, Ghoul, Jet, The Girl, it doesnt fucking matter. What if I fucking snap one day and do the awful shit i think? I can barely live with myself as I am, I can’t even imagine how i’d go on if i hurt Poison, or motorbaby. I dont think i could, I could let myself, i couldn’t fucking let myself-”

Kobra is heaving, as if trying to stop the tears visibly streaming down his face. Cherri glances down to see his hands, usually steady, now shaking violently. His fingers were tapping harshly on the table, trying to stab through the metal. 

And then, Cherri did something stupid. He reached out and grabbed Kobra’s hand and gave it a tight squeeze.

Whatever state Kobra was in, this knocked him out of it. He seized up, wide eyes still shining with tears turned to Cherri. Taking a deep breath, Cherri looked Kobra square in the eye, and spoke.

“Listen, I know we don’t know each other well. I’m afraid our quieter ways have left us closer to strangers, but I trust you. Poison trusts you. Motorbaby trusts you. Kobra, I can tell you’re good. Deep in your bones you are a good person. An’ I know this because you want to be good, an’ you act on that goodness. Your thoughts don’t make you who you are. We don’t control our thoughts, Witch knows who does. What we do control, is our actions. We control our selves, who we are to others, and I know you are kind. Look at how you worry at even the thought of hurtin’ motorbaby. That’s the thought you create, that’s the reaction. You’re not a ticking time bomb, kid, you’re just a person. You’re a person with a brain that betrays you, an’ you aren’t the only one in the zones. You’re not alone here kid-” Cherri sighs, and squeezes kobras hand again, “- you got me.”

A beat of silence. The wind howling. Wood creaking. Until Kobra breaks eye contact, looking forward. Neither of their hands move.

Kobra, finally, breaks the silence, his voice still clogged from crying.

“When I first met you, I was terrified”

Cherri blinks. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't that.

“ever since we found an old radio in a bag of food we swiped from some gang out in zone two. We tuned into whatever we could find. We’d listen to conspiracy nuts rattle off how the director was the one behind the graffiti bible. We’d discover rock and roll, guitars and all that shit. We’d learn the zones, when and where the radiation is worst, what jobs we could find, what crews were looking for two runaways with nothing but a mild interest in tech and a knack for speeches. And every night, when ghoul showed us how, we’d tune into WKIL, and listen to what had to be the most beautiful poetry we’d ever heard. Words flowing like...uh...i don’t know water or something? Used in a way I never knew words could be. I was obsessed, and when i found out poison was a friend of a friend of yours, i pretty much begged him to introduce me.”

Cherri couldn’t help but huff out a chuckle and, for the first time since Cherri’s met him, the corners of Kobra’s mouth curled a bit

“Yeah, I was there voluntarily. Poison did my hair and everything, I was gonna have you sign one of my shitty poems. The second I saw you, i froze up. The only reason I didn’t bolt was because I was Poison’s ride home and he was certain that we’d gel once I gave it a chance. That’s still my second most embarrassing memory, next to the ghoul gun mod incident. I thought you’d hate me after that, I completely gave up. I think i give up on myself a lot.”

Kobra stops, takes a deep breath in, and flips his hand, entwining his fingers with Cherri’s.

“Thanks for not giving up on me.”

Rays of sunlight shine through the shuttered windows.The storm has passed for now. The wind still makes the old shack creak, but Cherri doesn’t mind. He watches the sun illuminate the jug of liquor from the night before. He watches it bounce off the bracelets, now rattling against his own skin. He watches how it makes the kids eyes seem to shine. Eyes that look how he imagines a meadow may feel. Green and new, with a sort of hope to them. He sits in the slivers of sunlight, holding hands with a boy, as they bask in the rare feeling of being understood, and of being truly cared for.

Kobra rests his head on Cherris shoulder, and closes his eyes.

Nights are hard, but they, like all things, pass on.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was inspired by a very overdue prompt by @rockinoutforthdead on tumblr. Sorry this took me three months to finish I hope u like it<3


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